His hands released me and one went into my back, shoving me down.
“Atoo luh nahna Dax, kah Dahksahna, uvoo zan nahna xaxsah,”
he grunted through his thrusts, Bow to your king, my queen, give him your cunt.
I did as ordered, arching my chest into the bed, pressing my cheek to the mattress, my arms straight in front of me, I reared my ass back to meet his drives.
His big hands spanned my ribs and he yanked me back hard even with my violent jerks.
“See lapay tee, kah rahna Dahksahna,” he growled, “uvoo kay nahna rahna xaxsah.” That’s it, my golden queen, give me your golden cunt.
“Yes, my king,” I breathed, coming closer, “kah rahna xaxsah lapay nahna.” My golden cunt is yours.
“Kahna,” he growled, mine.
“Nahna,” I gasped, yours.
“Jak kahna,” he grunted, pounding deep, all mine, and I lost it, my head shooting back, my hair flying, my hands clenching the hides and my hips slamming back into his, it overwhelmed me, making me cry out in ecstasy, no joke, ecstasy as I went into a mini-orgasm trance as the sheer force of it swept through me. But I still didn’t miss my king’s powerful shout of release as he buried his cock deep, yanking me to him one last time, his hands tightening fierce on my ribs.
I was nowhere near recovery when he jerked my body up roughly like he had what I liked to consider our (real) first time so I was virtually suspended, impaled on his cock. His hands moved from my ribs to cover my breasts and his breathing in my ear was still labored when he spoke, his voice thick and hoarse.
“Kahna,” he grunted, squeezing my breasts.
“Nahna,” I agreed, turning my head and pressing my forehead in his neck.
One of his arms circled to hold me around my midriff as his hand cupped our connected sexes.
“Kahna,” he grunted again, tweaking my clit, my hips jerked and I whimpered before whispering, “Nahna.”
Then his hand slid up my body, up my throat and he forced his thumb between my lips. I accepted it readily and instantly sucked it deeper. This time his hips jerked and I heard his growl emanating low from his throat.
“Kahna,” he grunted yet again, my tongue swirled his thumb, he slid it out and it glided along my lower lip as I whispered, “Nahna.”
“Uvoo nahna lisa luh kay,” Give your mouth to me.
I tipped my head back and he took my mouth until I moaned down his throat.
He broke his mouth from mine but I opened my eyes and his captured them as his hand went to my belly and he reverted to English.
“Tonight, I planted my seed in your womb, my Circe. Tonight, we made a warrior. Tonight, your gold and my paint mixed and we created the greatest warrior this world will ever see.”
Okay, um… that scared the freaking shit out of me. I was steadfastly ignoring the fact that I was having unprotected sex, repeatedly, with a very virile man whose “seed” was probably as virile as he was. I was handling it in an, “I’ll deal with it if it happens” kind of way (the “if” in that sentence as the days went by truthfully being more like a “when”). In other words, I was ignoring it and stupidly hoping that what would be was meant to be.
But, honestly, even if threatened with death, I couldn’t kill the mood.
“That’s impossible, my Lahn,” I whispered, lifting a hand to curl it around his neck, “the greatest warrior this world will ever see already walks this earth and right now he’s inside me.”
I watched his eyes blaze, exposing the golden spirit within before he growled and took my mouth again, plundering it until I was whimpering then he broke free.
When he did, my hand not at his neck slid between my legs, going deep until I was cupping him.
“Kahna,” I whispered and watched his golden spirit glow brighter.
“Nahna,” he whispered back.
Yes, mine.
My fingers at his neck squeezed and I repeated, “Kahna.”
Without hesitation, he agreed, “Nahna.”
I stared into his heated, gleaming eyes and said softly, “Kah Dax, kah tunakan, kah Lahn.” My king, my warrior, my Lahn.
His lips came to mine and he whispered, “Meena, my Circe, jak nahna.” Yes, my Circe, all yours.
My lips curved into a smile seconds before his tongue slid between them, the tip of mine met his for a sweet touch before he broke that connection, pulled me off of his cock, turned me and planted me on my back in the bed. He pulled my legs apart, came down on top of me then yanked them around him as I circled his broad shoulders with my arms. Then his hand roamed my body, all the skin he could touch that wasn’t being touched by his body as his other arm rested in the bed taking on the bulk of his weight.
All the time he did this, his beautiful, dark, painted-black eyes stayed locked to mine.
Eventually, my limbs gave him a squeeze and I whispered, “I like our paint, honey, but I don’t like Dortak on me. Can we take a bath?”
He dipped his head and touched his mouth to mine as his hand came up and curled at the side of my neck.
Then he spoke softly and I knew he meant what he had to say because he didn’t bother with English, he used Korwahk, “I understand this is not of your world, my Circe, but he shares our bed tonight.”
Oh no, I didn’t like the sound of that, like, at all.
Lahn kept talking. “His body has been burned on the pyre, his head has become a toy or trophy, the Korwahk celebrated his death with cheers and chants, drink and dancing. And he knew humiliation, beaten, disarmed and immobilized before his defeat, cut down by his own steel. But I am not done with him. His blood
